I used to want to be an actor. When I was nine. And I was so angry when my parents encouraged me to maybe find something a little less outlandish. So I decided to be a missionary. Or more- God gave me a deep-rooted desire sown in my heart under a starry sky in Mexico. And oh how that desire guided me for so long. It even became my identity.
In America we ask people what they do. It is one of the first questions of small talk and it creates a suddle pressure to have a good answer. What do you do? Oh I am just finding the cure for cancer while volunteering at the local food bank and teaching Sunday school and raising the next Bill Gates.
I was always so proud of my answer. It became a large part of my identity. So much so that I contemplated very seriously breaking up with Hank due to his 'lack of a calling.' It sounds horrible and it is, but my passion for missions had consumed me to an unhealthy degree. I didn't know who I was without it.
Last year I lived my dream. It was amazing. I got to teach ESL, live in a foreign country with some of the most beautiful people I have ever met and share the Love of the Lord with some of the coolest students-become-friends ever. And yet, part of my pined away for my sweetheart. I thought life would be perfect if we could one day get married and then live the dream overseas.
It is still a deep desire and I still think it would be pretty awesome.
But why is it that I am never quite content where I am? Why is it that I always want the next stage to come on and get here?
I have a job and a husband and a house and a garden. But I hate the job most days and neglect to clean the house or water the garden. I praise God for both in the morning light but when they start to need some TLC, I offer it only begrudgingly. Sometimes I do the same with my husband. He gets the dregs left over from a day of helping people who rarely say thanks.
And i think that maybe if we could just live overseas, I would find more fulfilment in my work and have energy to clean and love and more of a burn to worship and grow.
My goodness I must have a short memory. Because I never felt like cleaning last year and would regularly procrastinate on lesson plans and when there were over 200 students to love, I often felt discouraged and empty and frustrated. I often bemoaned all the aspects of the culture I didn't agree with or couldn't even begin to understand.
No, there is no perfect place. There is no perfect phase of life.
But there are gifts for the taking today. There was a beautiful woodpecker to watch at the park and several hours just to sip too-sweet coffee and work on lesson plans at the coffee shop. There were resources to use to teach refugees the alphabet and there was rest and energy. There was a long overdue visit with my best friend and her adorable family and hours to just talk and explore other-worldly parks lit with fireflies and legends.
There were conversations with beautiful grandmothers and a beautiful mom and there was time to burrow deep into the Word for rest and healing and hope. And there is God's never-failing and never-changing character and the compassion, mercy, love, and kindness he shows me daily.
And I am going to keep dreaming big but perhaps I will keep my small dreams bigger. I will rejoice over clean laundry and the tasks that get checked on the daily list. And I will rejoice over what I can't see yet and the promise that the future will be good, hard but good, and that I do not go alone.
Monday, May 28, 2012
Saturday, May 19, 2012
Loads of Laundry...
It has been a while since I had so much energy. I have new respect for career women. Goodness me, you work all day and then come home to a house that needs cleaning, plants that need watering, people that need feeding and maybe you can squeeze in some alone time to read, write, create etc. Maybe.
Hank and I don't even have any kids yet and it still seems busy. This past week I was offered a position teaching another refugee ESL class. I admit I am nervous. These are people from across the world who likely have never learned to read or write. We are started with the basics- ABC's and numbers. How do I even begin a class like that?? "I am" (point to self) "Kelsey." "My name is" would even be too much.
So, it is definitely going to be a stretching experience but I am excited. Also, this puts me back working two jobs but I have a gracious boss who is letting me leave work early to get to the class. Thankful!
Today, in preparation for the crazy week ahead, I cleaned the house. It was dirty. Plain and simple.
Hank was gone flying most of the day, so I headed out to garage sales this morning and was triumphant. *Praise the Lord! We needed a weed eater and a 7' ladder. I got both for a steal!
Once home, I attacked the laundry, swept the floors, cleaned the dishes and then read alot. It was one of those beautiful days that is not quite too hot but sunshiney and perfect. It was a day to be thankful for this moment, this stage in life, this house to clean and a class to pray and prepare for. It was much needed rest.
Hank and I went on a walk to the nearby park and around the track of the elementary school around the corner. We talked about life and then made salads for dinner. We discussed our garden, our families, the upcoming week. It was just good.
And now we are looking forward to a lovely Sunday. Hank has been really busy flying this week. I think that everyone is calling to make up for the slow first week of May. He even has a flight tomorrow! But again, I am thankful. He has a job that he enjoys. We are learning and becoming more dependant on our Lord for our strength. When he leaves, I don't pine away for him(most of the time). I get busy or do a craft or (as will be the case tomorrow) I lesson plan!
Hank and I don't even have any kids yet and it still seems busy. This past week I was offered a position teaching another refugee ESL class. I admit I am nervous. These are people from across the world who likely have never learned to read or write. We are started with the basics- ABC's and numbers. How do I even begin a class like that?? "I am" (point to self) "Kelsey." "My name is" would even be too much.
So, it is definitely going to be a stretching experience but I am excited. Also, this puts me back working two jobs but I have a gracious boss who is letting me leave work early to get to the class. Thankful!
Today, in preparation for the crazy week ahead, I cleaned the house. It was dirty. Plain and simple.
Hank was gone flying most of the day, so I headed out to garage sales this morning and was triumphant. *Praise the Lord! We needed a weed eater and a 7' ladder. I got both for a steal!
Once home, I attacked the laundry, swept the floors, cleaned the dishes and then read alot. It was one of those beautiful days that is not quite too hot but sunshiney and perfect. It was a day to be thankful for this moment, this stage in life, this house to clean and a class to pray and prepare for. It was much needed rest.
Hank and I went on a walk to the nearby park and around the track of the elementary school around the corner. We talked about life and then made salads for dinner. We discussed our garden, our families, the upcoming week. It was just good.
And now we are looking forward to a lovely Sunday. Hank has been really busy flying this week. I think that everyone is calling to make up for the slow first week of May. He even has a flight tomorrow! But again, I am thankful. He has a job that he enjoys. We are learning and becoming more dependant on our Lord for our strength. When he leaves, I don't pine away for him(most of the time). I get busy or do a craft or (as will be the case tomorrow) I lesson plan!
Monday, May 14, 2012
It is for Freedom....
Oh honey. Isn't it hard to break off the chains that somehow get tangled around our ankles as we walk through these life paths? Isn't it hard to shake the nippy dogs of sin that bite our ankles and bark away our peaceful pace?
Oh yes, we know now it is hard. We know that what one does directly affects the other because we, dear, are oh so connected. Connected in an invisible, all consuming sort of way. And sometimes it is hard to feel the connection, to appreciate the union until its strained and torn and then there is only pain. Only pain to wade through as it threatens to choke out the hope and life and joy we have here.
And it isn't a coincidence that we both read Love and War last year when I was in Asia. And it isn't a coincidence that we learned of the war raging against marriage. That the Eldridges spoke truth to us once again of fighting off the lies and breaking the agreements we so readily make with our enemy.
Of praying for one another when all we really want to do is give up, run, stay angry, hide inside our frustration and the pain that binds us.
But we are learning. And it isn't one of those lessons that we can listen to and leave in the pew. Because we are finding out that our guard must always be up. That Satan is not interested in a one-time victory but in demoralizing us and turning us slowly against one another.
And so we fight. We take up the armor you recite over yourself daily- the Ephesians 6 battle gear. And we make new choices and break off old habits and make new ones. Like the habit we have established of asking eachother what lies we believed that day. And as you ask I find that more sneak in than I could have imagined.
And as I share the lies- that I am not as good as that person, not as pretty, not worthy of God's best etc. etc. etc., you speak truth and it flows into the broken places as healing salve. And you remind me that I am loved, that we are in this together, that we will have bad days but ultimately- God has our best in mind.
Darling, it is an honor to fight for you, with you, to be your ezer kenegbo. Your partner, the one who was created out of your side because I am to stand by your side. We are a perfect match and the enemy is no match for our King.
Oh yes, we know now it is hard. We know that what one does directly affects the other because we, dear, are oh so connected. Connected in an invisible, all consuming sort of way. And sometimes it is hard to feel the connection, to appreciate the union until its strained and torn and then there is only pain. Only pain to wade through as it threatens to choke out the hope and life and joy we have here.
And it isn't a coincidence that we both read Love and War last year when I was in Asia. And it isn't a coincidence that we learned of the war raging against marriage. That the Eldridges spoke truth to us once again of fighting off the lies and breaking the agreements we so readily make with our enemy.
Of praying for one another when all we really want to do is give up, run, stay angry, hide inside our frustration and the pain that binds us.
But we are learning. And it isn't one of those lessons that we can listen to and leave in the pew. Because we are finding out that our guard must always be up. That Satan is not interested in a one-time victory but in demoralizing us and turning us slowly against one another.
And so we fight. We take up the armor you recite over yourself daily- the Ephesians 6 battle gear. And we make new choices and break off old habits and make new ones. Like the habit we have established of asking eachother what lies we believed that day. And as you ask I find that more sneak in than I could have imagined.
And as I share the lies- that I am not as good as that person, not as pretty, not worthy of God's best etc. etc. etc., you speak truth and it flows into the broken places as healing salve. And you remind me that I am loved, that we are in this together, that we will have bad days but ultimately- God has our best in mind.
Darling, it is an honor to fight for you, with you, to be your ezer kenegbo. Your partner, the one who was created out of your side because I am to stand by your side. We are a perfect match and the enemy is no match for our King.
Thursday, May 10, 2012
The Lost Art
I still remember that day my Oma smiled at me, winked and said, "The way to a man's heart is through his stomach." We had just finished making lunch for my Opa and my Dad. It was our Wednesday tradition. I was homeschooled eighth grade and this allowed me the chance to take 'cooking lessons' from my Oma.
I am not sure if she really understood what she was getting into when she agreed to take me on as her student. She soon found out when we tried to make homemade bread. In my German heritage, the test of a good woman is her bread. My dad's cousin once told me that I had to learn to slice bread straight and thin before I was ready for marriage.
Anywho, the bread making experiment turned into a flour explosion and I think my Oma is still finding flour in the nooks and crannies of her kitchen to this day. Oh Heavens, it was messy. But the smell of that bread and the memory of laughing together with my Oma as we surveyed the catastrophe we had created were totally worth it (then again, it wasn't my kitchen that was dusted with flour).
Bread wasn't our only project. We made dompf noodles, pickles, chili, stew, sweet rice, cooked cheese and so much more. And the best part of the meal was the process. It was learning how to turn a few simple ingredients into a hearty meal. It was the fun of cooking with my Oma, of sitting down to eat with my family and seeing their satisfaction. I still find a huge amount of joy in putting food on the table.
Today was my boss's birthday. I agreed to bring a cake and when Hank and I went to the store last night, I caved. I love baking so much, but it was late and I couldn't imagine being up for hours slaving over a homemade creation.
So I bought a box mix.
And I made tres leches cake from a box and it turned out Ok.
Apparently this is the age of buying instead of making. I get that. It is hard to find time to bake and besides, the bakery makes it better, or the grocery store sells it just as fresh, right? right???
Well, you would have thought I labored hours over this cake by the way my coworkers praised my cake. They all seemed genuinly surprised that I would make a cake. I admitted it was from a box but this didn't lessen their amazement.
On one hand, it is rather nice to be praised. On the other, I am sad for what we are losing. If we always let someone else grow our food, bake our bread, hunt our meat- won't we become pretty needy people. We will need other people to do all these things for us and we ourselves will miss out on the beauty of the process. On the pride that comes from getting your hands dirty and surviving flour mushroom clouds. On failing at certain recipes to learn what works. On the the smell, oh the smell! of baking bread.
To me, it is worth every second I could spend doing something more "productive."
I am not sure if she really understood what she was getting into when she agreed to take me on as her student. She soon found out when we tried to make homemade bread. In my German heritage, the test of a good woman is her bread. My dad's cousin once told me that I had to learn to slice bread straight and thin before I was ready for marriage.
Anywho, the bread making experiment turned into a flour explosion and I think my Oma is still finding flour in the nooks and crannies of her kitchen to this day. Oh Heavens, it was messy. But the smell of that bread and the memory of laughing together with my Oma as we surveyed the catastrophe we had created were totally worth it (then again, it wasn't my kitchen that was dusted with flour).
Bread wasn't our only project. We made dompf noodles, pickles, chili, stew, sweet rice, cooked cheese and so much more. And the best part of the meal was the process. It was learning how to turn a few simple ingredients into a hearty meal. It was the fun of cooking with my Oma, of sitting down to eat with my family and seeing their satisfaction. I still find a huge amount of joy in putting food on the table.
Today was my boss's birthday. I agreed to bring a cake and when Hank and I went to the store last night, I caved. I love baking so much, but it was late and I couldn't imagine being up for hours slaving over a homemade creation.
So I bought a box mix.
And I made tres leches cake from a box and it turned out Ok.
Apparently this is the age of buying instead of making. I get that. It is hard to find time to bake and besides, the bakery makes it better, or the grocery store sells it just as fresh, right? right???
 |
| My attempt at German cheese dumplings. I used the dumpling technique my colleages taught me in China :) |
On one hand, it is rather nice to be praised. On the other, I am sad for what we are losing. If we always let someone else grow our food, bake our bread, hunt our meat- won't we become pretty needy people. We will need other people to do all these things for us and we ourselves will miss out on the beauty of the process. On the pride that comes from getting your hands dirty and surviving flour mushroom clouds. On failing at certain recipes to learn what works. On the the smell, oh the smell! of baking bread.
To me, it is worth every second I could spend doing something more "productive."
Tuesday, May 8, 2012
Living in the 'burbs'
I never thought I would be driving to work forty minutes away from my house. I never thought I would work in a big city. I never thought I would ever ever be a secretary.
BUT God has a much bigger imagination than I do.
When I first got my job, my employer asked where I lived. He looked surprised when I said I lived so far away. I guess a lot of people commute but no one at that company drives as far as I do.
But there is a reason Hank and I chose to live out here past the suburbs.
It is the big old trees that line our street of small old houses.
It is the beauty of a sunset seen from a field and not hidden by a skyscraper.
It is the quiet broken by barking dogs instead of honking horns.
It is our little garden mostly taken over by potato plants that gives us reason to go outside and get dirty doing something physical.
It is the space to stretch out, to make noise, to barbecue, to sing and to laugh with no one on the other side of our walls.
It is the way that buildings are gradually replaced by wide open fields filled with hay bales and cows and rusting old barns
It is the way we slow down and just breathe in this place. It isn't a glamorous town and we have to drive elsewhere for our favorite grocery store, but as we settle in and make friends, it is easier to call this place home.
So I will keep driving and spending approximately $12 a day on gas so I can come home to this place where the paint is peeling and the fixtures are all at least 40 years old, but where we feel like real people. Real people who can slow down enough to know that advancing and progressing are good but enjoying today is even better.
BUT God has a much bigger imagination than I do.
When I first got my job, my employer asked where I lived. He looked surprised when I said I lived so far away. I guess a lot of people commute but no one at that company drives as far as I do.
But there is a reason Hank and I chose to live out here past the suburbs.
It is the big old trees that line our street of small old houses.
It is the beauty of a sunset seen from a field and not hidden by a skyscraper.
It is the quiet broken by barking dogs instead of honking horns.
It is the space to stretch out, to make noise, to barbecue, to sing and to laugh with no one on the other side of our walls.
It is the way that buildings are gradually replaced by wide open fields filled with hay bales and cows and rusting old barns
It is the way we slow down and just breathe in this place. It isn't a glamorous town and we have to drive elsewhere for our favorite grocery store, but as we settle in and make friends, it is easier to call this place home.
So I will keep driving and spending approximately $12 a day on gas so I can come home to this place where the paint is peeling and the fixtures are all at least 40 years old, but where we feel like real people. Real people who can slow down enough to know that advancing and progressing are good but enjoying today is even better.
Tuesday, May 1, 2012
Bonding
We moved here in mid-January but we haven't really set down roots yet. Being that I lived in the same town all my life and then went to college with several friends, this is the first time I have really had to intentionally set down roots.
I forgot for a while just how much I need people. Hank is great but I need some girl time every once in a while. I need to talk about music, art, calories and the annoying fact that fat cells never disappear... I need to work on projects and talk about life and the chit chatty, knitty gritty that makes up most female conversations.
Today I came home from work, went to get a haircut and then got a text saying a group of ladies was getting together to work on wedding projects for the pastors daughter who is soon to be wed. Since Hank was having coffee with the pastor and another guy from church, it just made sense to go.
It took a while to mesh with some of these ladies I had never met but soon we were laughing and talking and crafting. A deep part of me that had been holding its breath just let it out in one, big, wonderful woosh! Soon I had an invitation to the wedding (for a girl I have met once) and had promised that I would work and decorate and wash dishes because I remember all the wonderful people who helped make my wedding wonderful. And I shared secrets I learned from our wedding-like how you can use museum puddy instead of hot glue to hold stuff down and I got to brainstorm about decorations and design and I felt so totally in my element.
It was pretty great.
So I am thinking I will make this a tradition. You know- girl time. Because I heard today that couples should have something outside the marriage to focus on. If all my focus is on Hank- well, quite frankly- he is going to get pretty boring. If he is all I talk about, the only one I talk to, then we are both missing out. We need other people to challenge us, sharpen us, enlighten us with their life stories. We need sisters and brothers who 'get' the struggles and challenges unique to our gender.
Today I am thankful for the beginnings on friendship and the potential for deepening relationships with some pretty great people.
I forgot for a while just how much I need people. Hank is great but I need some girl time every once in a while. I need to talk about music, art, calories and the annoying fact that fat cells never disappear... I need to work on projects and talk about life and the chit chatty, knitty gritty that makes up most female conversations.
Today I came home from work, went to get a haircut and then got a text saying a group of ladies was getting together to work on wedding projects for the pastors daughter who is soon to be wed. Since Hank was having coffee with the pastor and another guy from church, it just made sense to go.
It took a while to mesh with some of these ladies I had never met but soon we were laughing and talking and crafting. A deep part of me that had been holding its breath just let it out in one, big, wonderful woosh! Soon I had an invitation to the wedding (for a girl I have met once) and had promised that I would work and decorate and wash dishes because I remember all the wonderful people who helped make my wedding wonderful. And I shared secrets I learned from our wedding-like how you can use museum puddy instead of hot glue to hold stuff down and I got to brainstorm about decorations and design and I felt so totally in my element.
It was pretty great.
So I am thinking I will make this a tradition. You know- girl time. Because I heard today that couples should have something outside the marriage to focus on. If all my focus is on Hank- well, quite frankly- he is going to get pretty boring. If he is all I talk about, the only one I talk to, then we are both missing out. We need other people to challenge us, sharpen us, enlighten us with their life stories. We need sisters and brothers who 'get' the struggles and challenges unique to our gender.
Today I am thankful for the beginnings on friendship and the potential for deepening relationships with some pretty great people.
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